Vikas Yadav was given a life sentence for the honour killing of Nitish Katara is back in the news. I spoke to Nilam, Nitish’s mother, on her fight for justice.

Indomitable, courageous, dogged. These are just some of the adjectives you will run into when reading about Nilam Katara, the now 73-year-old retired school teacher, who has fought a long battle to ensure justice for the murder of her son, Nitish, a 24-year-old business executive. Nitish was killed in 2002 by his girlfriend Bharti’s brother Vikas Yadav, cousin Vishal Yadav and a contract killer, Sukhdev Pehalwan.

The trial court and high court called it an honour killing. The Yadavs disapproved of Bharti’s relationship with a man not of their caste or socio-economic status. “It was their patriarchal mindset. They thought, ‘How dare our sister think of getting married without our permission’?” Nilam says.

On the night of February 16, 2002, Nitish left home for Ghaziabad to attend the wedding of a friend with Bharti Yadav. He never returned home.

“He was very particular about informing me when he was getting late,” Nilam says. When none of his friends could give her a satisfactory answer, she went to the Kavi Nagar police station in Ghaziabad to file a missing person report.

Two days later she got a call. They had found a body. The face had been burned beyond recognition. But when she placed her palm on his hand, she knew it was her son. She recognized its shape and size, not much bigger than her own.

The obstacles were there from the start. Bharti is the daughter of Uttar Pradesh politician/don, D.P. Yadav who has at different times been associated with Mulayam Singh Yadav’s Samajwadi Party, Mayawati’s Bahujan Samaj Party and the BJP. Sentenced to life imprisonment for murder by a CBI court in 2015, he was acquitted in 2021 by the Uttarakhand high court and walked free. There are 15 other criminal cases pending against him, according to Association of Democratic Reform website.

Knowing what she was up against in taking on a powerful family, Nilam insisted that her son’s body was brought back to Delhi rather than remain in Ghaziabad where the Yadavs yield inordinate influence. The DNA sample was first sent to Hyderabad. Within a day, she says, the lab in charge went on leave, allegedly after receiving a threat. The sample was then sent to Kolkata and confirmed to belong to Nitish Katara.

The legal battle

Bharti meanwhile had been whisked away to London and for the next three years remained unavailable for court questioning. Despite repeated court summons there was always some reason why she couldn’t come—she was unwell, she had an exam, she had had a fall. Nilam went to court in her private capacity to insist Bharti was brought back as a key witness.

Bharti began by telling the court she and Nitish were just friends. But shown the cards and letters they had exchanged, she conceded there was something special between them.

Finally, in 2008, six years after killing him, Vikas, Vishal and Sukhdev Pehelwan were sentenced to life imprisonment. In 2016, the Supreme Court upheld the high court sentence of life imprisonment with 25 years without remission.

But the legal battle wasn’t over. Vikas filed a review petition against the Supreme Court. It was rejected in 2017.

Then, in April this year, the Supreme Court granted Vikas Yadav temporary bail to attend to his mother who was undergoing spine surgery. In July, this was extended by another four weeks and he continues to remain out of jail.

A previous application by Vikas for parole had been rejected by Tihar jail authorities on the grounds that his behaviour in jail did not merit it. Court records indicate that during his 23 year incarceration, he has made more than 100 hospital visits, including a 25-day stay at the All India Institute for Medical Sciences during which time his phone signal was tracked to his family farmhouse in Vasant Kunj.

With even his extended bail now coming to an end, Vikas has told the court that he wishes to marry and that his wedding has been set for September 5. He also needs time to raise money for the ₹54 lakh fine that is a part of his sentence, he says. The next date for hearing has been set for September 2.

The price of justice

“I could never have imagined that getting justice would be so hard,” says Nilam. “Once they were arrested, I thought that’s it. They will be punished.”

Over the years, Nilam Katara has become somewhat of a beacon to whom people turn to for advice on honour killings, or dowry deaths. She tells them two things.

The first: “No matter how strong a person might be, justice will catch up. It may take time. You will have to go through the process. There were so many hearings. It took a lot of money but I never gave up.”

The second: You have to show up. “Nobody is going to do it for you,” she says. Despite a full time job, she tried to be present for every hearing. Sometimes, she’d take leave but the case would get adjourned. She warns: “They will try and intimidate you. Threaten you. It doesn’t matter. You have to be there. You have to put your neck on the line, even if they are powerful.”

Nilam counts herself lucky for the tremendous support she’s received. One time, she remembers, an army wife just came up to hug her for fighting. Another stranger asked her details of the case that he had been following back home in Africa. “I never felt alone, there was always so much support. And of course the media followed up very thoroughly.” Above all, she says, she never lost faith in justice.

Now for the first time in over two decades, she is less sure. “I am shaky,” she admits. “Justice can get derailed at any time.”